


Legend of Zelda: Prophecy of Darkness

by DecalinetheSpaceCat



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ancestors, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Civil War, F/M, Gen, Human Sacrifice, Hyrule Castle, Kingdom of Hyrule, Link (Legend of Zelda) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Link (Legend of Zelda) Needs a Hug, Link (Legend of Zelda) Uses Sign Language, Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Fluff, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Non-Human Humanoid Society, Origin Myths, Origin Story, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Period-Typical Racism, Post-War, Pre-Canon, Pre-War, Prequel, Racism, Racist Language, Rebuilding Hyrule, Sacred Trees, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Self-Sacrifice, Tags Are Fun, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22871581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecalinetheSpaceCat/pseuds/DecalinetheSpaceCat
Summary: Link has never known a life outside of a blacksmith's apprentice, yet when black, hooded figures abduct his friends from his town, he finds that he is part of a greater purpose. With a young girl who's sister was taken, they both trek out in search of their friends and family, finding that both the kidnapped and they themselves hold the very fate of Hyrule in the balance.From there, they must gather the Spiritual Stones and Open the Door of Time, all the while being mindful of growing tensions between the peoples. They must gain trust, make bonds, and put a stop to the attacks occurring all over Hyrule, they tying into an underground cult working to awaken an ancient evil...
Relationships: Anju & Link (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf & Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Original Female Character(s), Link/Original Male Character(s), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 7
Collections: Legend of Zelda





	1. Prologue: Overdue Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that I've been working on for some years, and while I have other things going on, I feel it only right that I post at least the beginning here. Updates will be infrequent, but for now, I hope you enjoy what I have to show.

It was a truth she had not been willing to admit for some time. In fact, even now, it was a bitter fact she had wished to avoid, if not for her own pride. Yet as her eyes squinted and scrunched to better gage where she was indeed going, the small flame of the candle doing little to guide her way, the woman had to ultimately (at least) come to accept that, perhaps, some of the others' concerns for her and her mobility held some merit.

Perhaps though. Just perhaps. After all, she had found her way to the table, had she not?

Setting down the candle on the wooden surface, she sighed as she then realized she could barely see the piece of paper before her, let alone where the ink well was. At the very least, she could feel around and sense the fluff of the quill brushing against her aged fingertips.

Carefully and with quite a span between each step, she finally managed to properly dip the quill into the ink and make her first mark on the paper, her message ready to be written. A message that, despite all she knew (or rather, didn't know), should've been sent a long time ago.

'26th of March Sixth Year in The Reign of Chancellor Rostoram Harkinian Hyrule'

Even after all this time, it still pained her to address that another was in the position of ruling. It was no fault of the Chancellor in any way, the poor boy. If anything, selfishly, it just served as a further reminder to her, as well as his Majesty of what…who had been lost.

_'My Dearest Old Friend, The Hardy Bender,_

_I bid you good tidings. It has been far too long since we have last spoken, written form or otherwise, and I deeply apologize for my lack of maintaining communication with you in these past few years. '_

Hmm…not bad of a beginning. If she had more ink, she'd lengthen the long overdue greeting, as well as her apology. Still, she wasn't writing this with the intent to fill it with pleasantries.

_'And indeed, it is now that I truly regret not contacting you then, however necessary it was. As perhaps then, I would be able to share something far more positive in nature. Yet I would not be writing to you if it were of not of the utmost importance regarding the children.'_

She hoped it had been that way since she had last seen them. She prayed so every night. What was she doing, getting off topic like this? She had work to do!

_'My clan has come to me and his Majesty Chancellor of a great many deal of raids and vicious attacks occurring in several villages and hamlets all over Hyrule, though I assume that due to your line of work, you have also possibly heard of it yourself, especially in a place already so full of merchants and gossip.'_

Her lips tightened at the mention of that place. While yes, if there was any news of what had occurred that had leaked out, it'd certainly be 'there'. The question was whether or not anyone would believe it, let alone care. Ultimately though, there was only one in her mind that she wished to hear her words, so as long as he heeded her, that was all that mattered.

For now, at least.

_'The destruction is unfathomable. The survivors that we and the Royal Guard have been able to save are but few. Neither my clan nor his Majesty is certain on what to make of these raids either. Settlements are burnt to the ground and little if anything or anyone is left, yet from the small handful of those who the Goddesses surely blessed and spared in order to alert us of these happenings, it does not appear that they are interested in material riches or baubles.'_

_Her once steady hand began to tremble slightly, she making sure to move the end of the quill from the paper, lest she go and make a mark due to her shaking. "Pull yourself together, you old fool." She chastised herself. "Save it for when you can afford it." A long, rattled breath echoed throughout the room, the old woman regaining her composure once again before she went back to writing._

_'Dear Graces, please let me get this done without any mistakes.'_

She had wished to explain more. To relay everything. Of how the first instance was so unexpected and swift that no one knew what to make of it. And even more, until but a few days prior, she had allowed herself to simply believe it was just a one time incident! Tragic as it was, it was no indication that something else was amiss.

And perhaps, a few hours ago…she would've believed that still.

 _'_ I saw him.' She thought, reminiscing on what had convinced her there was more at play here. 'In the ruins…standing there as if he were some lost child…I saw him.'

_'I write to you, not to simply inform you of what I do know. I write to also present what I do not. These attacks are being looked into, and we are beginning an investigation in the matter even as I write this. Yet even as I do so, even as I admit that there is little to nothing that we can neither confirm nor deny at this very moment, I cannot help but alert you that upon hearing of such things, I have felt it.'_

Whether she liked it or not, her predictions, her 'other sight' as her people have called it, was not enough to convince the authorities that there was more to these attacks than simply bizarre raids that were more interested in simply causing destruction rather than actual theft.

_'And from what I've heard and now seen…people.'_

_'It is faint, and perhaps too soon to judge, and without the authority of his Highness, I can only do so much. Not even he knows, and for a time, he cannot. No one, but you or I know of the children's fates, let alone where they reside now. But if I do not act on this, if I do not at least alert of you of even some sort of nonexistent, invisible danger that you perhaps may find at your doorstep, I shall be responsible for both the possible shedding of your blood and theirs.'_

As much as the thought of it disgusted and reviled her…she couldn't deny it as a possibility. More than ever now.

_'That cannot happen,'_

It couldn't be stopped, the lone droplet trailing its way down her old, wrinkled cheek.

_'I have sworn this to 'her'.'_

The old woman had to stop for a moment, if not just to keep her freshly falling tears from staining the paper and smearing the ink. She buried her face in the folds of her robes, yet she didn't know if that was enough to deafen the noise. Her sobs, subdued and strained as they were, couldn't have been contained to this single room, as much as she wished it so.

And as if to confirm her fears,

"Granny?"

A young, concerned voice called out for her, the source drawing closer and closer to her personal chambers, the shadow just mere inches away from the curtain barrier.

"Everything is fine, dear." The old woman quickly sputtered out. "I'm just…needing some time alone."

She didn't wish to lie, lying was something she had forbidden the young woman on the other side of her room's entrance to ever do. And very scarcely did she ever commit it herself. Still, she didn't want her to come in, to see her in such a pathetic, pitiful state, and her response only seemed to incite the young woman to enter her grandmother's chambers, her tanned fingers grasping onto the cloth barrier.

"Granny, you're not fine. What are you-"

"Child." She interrupted, her intrusive guest's hand stopping the moment the word left her lips. "It is in the late hours of the night. I am wishing to complete this task before I go to bed." She explained, her tone not hostile, yet firm and clear. "Speaking of which, what are you doing up this late? You KNOW you have morning exercises at dawn."

That got her going, the sound of her scampering down the hall she had just traveled to her own bed chambers made the old woman chuckle slightly. And it wasn't a lie either. She DID have morning exercises tomorrow. So, if anything, she was doing her a service in getting her to bed.

'Thank you, prune.' She silently thanked the still running youth. 'I needed that.'

Wiping away any lingering moisture from her face, she went back to completing the last portion of her much belated message.

_'I pray to The Three that this is not so. That perhaps, Nayru, in Her infinite wisdom, wishes to test me and see if I act accordingly. If that is the case, then I shall oblige. Shall it not be such, yet instead Her bestowing upon me an early warning, the outcome of this reaching you will be the same. In this case, I have decided a false alarm is better than none at all.'_

False alarm…oh, why did she go and add that?

'I saw him.'

Still…it could've just been a wanderer. There was no mistaking what she had seen, yet the reason for the youth's still being there when he was clearly no longer…

She still didn't know.

So, for now…it had to be either or. She wasn't done investigating it, far from it. Yet for now, that one, brief sighting was all she could go on.

She would definitely be taking a trip to the site tomorrow.

_'I have prayed every day since our departure that you are healthy and well, and that he is as well. Perhaps, should Their Graces see me fit to do so, I shall see him before I go and get my fool self killed. Perhaps they shall go along together.'_

Goddesses no. Oh, please, please, please, no. The former would be far preferable. Still…before that…how long had it been? Sixteen, seventeen years? Ah, no. Eighteen with this year. 'That's right. Their birthdays…they'll be coming up shortly.'

She could only hope and pray that would be all that would come.

_'With my Regards and the Graces' Blessing,_

_The Old Crone'_

There. Finished. And just at the right time too.

Setting down her quill, she lifted the paper up, her old, haggard eyes scanning over the letters. Her writing style had been getting a little sloppy over the years, yet for the most part, it was readable enough. She would send it to be delivered first thing tomorrow morning. Yet for now, shameful as it was for her to admit, all she wished for right now was for some sleep.

Grabbing the candle, she set it on the small stand next to her bed, removing her robes from her aged form, and slowly making her way down to lay on the mattress which was almost as old as she. No, not just that. This very bed had nearly only a couple or so years on her. Still, like her, it stood and served as it needed to.

She prayed that she'd be provided such strength in these times.

Turning to face the still flickering candle, she licked the tips of her wrinkled, old fingers before reaching for the wick. And with one, swift motion, the two moist digits touched, snuffing out the small flame, leaving the small room to be engulfed in all encompassing darkness.

'I pray to hear from you soon, old friend.' The elderly woman thought, her eyes threatening to close and sleep to overtake her before she finished her last conscious statement. 'And I pray, just as much, that I am able to see their faces before I finally am taken from this world…'

* * *

The old woman was left torn between whether or not she had truly done the right thing. Would this piece of paper either bring her closure and assurance, or would it only serve as the catalyst to what she feared and prayed wouldn't come? Such thoughts, despite the heavy veil of sleep that overtook her, would come to plague her in the days following the sending of her letter.

She, however, was far from the only person with those 'two' on her mind.

Let alone the only being.

Far past her room and the dwelling of her and her clan by the foot of the towering Death Mountain, territory of the Gorons, another mind contemplated and pondered on the very same subject. Past the massive body that was Lake Hylia, whose very waters flowed down from the combined streams of both Zora River and the falls of Gerudo Valley, all of which once belonged to the Zoras at one time, wondered of what their next plan of action should be. Was it better to wait, or go out and leave nothing to chance? Past even the Gerudo Valley, whose borders were notorious for the housing of rather unsavory, dangerous individuals and creatures, the deserts that lay past the Badlands supposedly housing even worse, someone was steadily growing weary and impatient.

Someone, from a time where the land of Hyrule, let alone the lands surrounding the small country, were no more than unclaimed, untouched, unspoiled fields and plains.

Someone whom had seen and partook in historical events that, unfortunately for them, were forgotten by the peoples of this generation. Their name, should it have even been spoken, no one would know that it belonged to them, let alone what such a name once meant.

Someone, whom, from the prison and bonds placed upon them long ago by the Three that made this world and all else outside of it, registered that, once again, they were being fed.

And they were, ever so hungry.


	2. Delivery Day Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apprentice of a blacksmith, Link is tasked with delivering specific items to various persons, both those in and out of town. Though what seems to be a normal delivery is soon to take a strange and mysterious turn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear in mind that this chapter was written back in the day where I thought long chapters were the way to go. Yet I've grown past that as I simply can't do it anymore. This and the next one are the only ones that follow that format, so I won't torture you with such a format for long.
> 
> That said, hope you enjoy and please comment!

**'From the highest point of the highest building to the turning weathercock, every tip of every settlement draws back to the crest.'**

**'And as all places lead back to the capital, all things lead back to the Crests. All things lead back to the Triforce.'**

* * *

"Eh, oi! Link! Get your keister down here, boy! Don't have time to fix this AND drag your hide away from the window!"

The young man stationed by the window wasted no time in rising from the bed and going to the ladder that connected the small loft above to the area below that composed most of the space in the building. The young man, Link, had, for all intents and purposes, bore several traits that made him appear right for his current profession, and yet not all at once. For one, he bore a form that wasn't exactly enormous,, yet the muscles he had developed over the years of being the striker for the old man working down below. Reasonably sized deltoids and biceps, needed to swing the hammer used for striking the red-hot iron as the old man, doing the majority of what he called the 'hard stuff', held it over the anvil with tongs and directed where to swing. Abdominal muscles were toned as well, yet like his arms, they were not overly developed. This pattern seemed to seep over every other inch of him: toned, yet only just enough so that he was just that and no more. And though his exposure to the heat of the forge was something that he needed to perhaps lessen his time with, his skin was akin to his body, a warm apricot, yet in time, it'd probably be as tan as the old man he lived with.

Link's attire was not all that fancy or extravagant either, both due to his line of work and the fact that even with the dependence his living area put on his guardian, that didn't mean that a surplus number of rupees came falling into their hands. To bear better with the almost always present heat, he kept his golden hair up in a small, high tail, there not much he could put up as it was, yet even allowing his hair to be its regular length below his jawline was near impossible, the ponytail aiding him by a small margin. A simple, grey, sleeveless tunic served as a top with a brown, sleeveless vest that ended midway lying over top, the leather worn and old. A belt about as old and worn as the vest was fastened around his waist, his black trousers not having a place to feed it through, and more leather straps were wrapped around his wrists His arms bore finger-less gloves so to speak, a somewhat turquoise green and ending at his elbows. But the most colorful thing of his entire outfit, his boots too following the darker, blander color scheme. A bit striking to his rather gold hair and deep blue irises.

As the soles of his worn boots met the even more worn flooring below, Link then made his way towards the one who had called him, sitting atop of a bench composed of wood that was also perhaps just as old as the planks composing of the surface under his feet. "Good." The old man huffed. "Was wondering whether or not I'd have to throw on of those there to get your attention." he chuckled, gesturing towards the various hard and sharpened tools that rested on the stock racks. "Course the sledgehammer's right over there. That'd get your attention for sure." Link's eyes immediately widened at his long ears catching that, the elderly man releasing a dry, husky chuckle at his reaction. "Knew that'd get you."

Old this man was, and simple he lived, yet the name he bore held more connotation than a good majority of his clients would ever know, at least Link assumed so. His name was so plain and simple after all, yet the old man's title just 'felt' as if, even from birth, the Goddess' formed him to be a crafter and bender of metal.

Osmivanna, a blacksmith to the neutral eye, yet to the few who truly knew him, THE blacksmith, for there was no contest.

With skin tan and dark, it was perhaps somewhat ironic that he didn't get out of the shop much. Indeed, the place was intentionally kept dark due to his profession needing such, the only source of light being from the small windows in the loft, Link the only one out of the two that bothered to uncover and open his. It was rather surprising that Osmivanna continued to work and do such heavy labor in his age of seventy-two, the only limbs that seemed to be in the same condition as they had been twenty or even thirty years ago being his muscled arms, everything else from his legs to his face seeming to shrink up and wrinkle. Grey fibers that protruded from the back of his head as the front was mostly bald were tied up in a short tail, some escaping the tie and creating a small, short, shaggy mane that extended to the base of his neck. Or rather, his upper back, his posture having grown more forward leaning over the years.

As a blacksmith, Osmivanna dressed the part as well, though Link hadn't really known of seeing the elderly man in anything else. A simple, brown apron over a turquoise tunic that was even more worn down and aged than the apron, the sleeves torn from their original places and giving it a rugged, tattered look. Dark trousers like Link's own rested on his far thinner legs, brown, leather shoes and worn socks on his feet. A simple necklace rested around his neck, various small beads and stones around the small strands of braided rope, Link not knowing the origin of it, nor of the dark tattoo that was on the old man's right shoulder. The marking was a symbol that was angled and resembling the shape of a diamond, yet at the top, instead of a single point, it split into three, two pointing in parallel directions whilst the middle pointed upward.

"Now, I suppose I don't need to go into too much detail as to why I called you down here, do I, boy?" Link shook his head, though mainly out of wishing to not perhaps rouse the elderly Hylian's frustration. He had indeed known why he had been summoned, let alone what today even meant. All of which, even if he didn't protest about it, he utterly dreaded. "Delivery day. And today's going to be a busy one."

Delivery day. Lovely.

Osmivanna's delivery of this fact, matter-of-fact and indifferent as it sounded, was not to indicate that he was completely oblivious or uncaring of the frown that came to his assistant's face. Oh, he more than took notice, as much as Link tried to insist that there was indeed nothing wrong, and this only made the act of sending the boy out worse for him. Despite his still strong arms, hardened and tight from years of developing and perfecting his craft, his legs and back unfortunately didn't exactly follow suit. In fact, he could've sworn that those portions of him had been compensated for him still retaining the same strength he had in the days before his sunset years. Simply put, Link in turn, as he too grew in both age in strength, grew to be more capable of the task than he. The boy knew this as well, though it didn't exactly make him like delivery day anymore.

"No need to get yourself in a rut about it though." The old man then said, feeling as if he needed to add something to perhaps levy Link's trepidation. "It's a few regulars. And just one of them is going to have you have to go through the center of town." He then lifted himself from the stool and with a set of uneasy, wobbly steps (his legs thin and lanky compared to his developed arms), he eventually made it over to the stock racks, taking a moment to wipe his worn, callused hands on the hem of his apron. "Now," Osmivanna began, pointing towards a rather large, handheld saw, said handle blue shining. "Mutoh's going to be your first stop. He won't be going anywhere until you hand that to him as he's not going to have anything to chop anything down with, so no lollygagging, you hear?" Link nodded, the elderly smith then gesturing to a smaller, yet equally sharp handheld sickle. "Course after that, you get to pay yourself a visit to Terran's place." At that, the blonde youth's eyes widened, any semblance of his former dejection completely evaporated by this little bit of news. He gazed at his mentor, as if he didn't believe what he had just heard. "Yes, I mean it, boy! Wouldn't tell you otherwise if I didn't!" he then rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes as the younger man's big, blue eyes were beginning to stir some sensations that caused a light flush or red to come to his cheeks. "N-Now don't get me wrong! You're still on the clock, so don't lollygag there either! Understand?" Link nodded, seemingly not even registering what the blacksmith had just said. All that mattered was that he was getting to go to Terran's! He was going to the ranch!

Even if he said nothing, the sudden and abrupt embrace he gave to Osmivanna said more than enough. And as much as this gesture caused the older man's cheeks to flush and his eyes to roll, he only pushed Link away once a good few moments of this had passed.

"Don't thank me yet, boy. You've got one more after that." To Link's surprise, however, instead of pointing to another tool stationed on the racks, the blacksmith reached into the pouch of his apron and pulled out a small, black mortar, the object resting in the center of his calloused, cracked palm. "Now this here could either be your first or your last, because I don't know whether they've gone and set up shop already or are still at home." Osmivanna explained. "If they aren't, then make the delivery to the Mutoh and the ranch first. If they are, then drop it off at their place." He then paused, as if just remembering something. "Course, if their daughter's home, then you could just hand it to her, seeing as she's the one that asked for it." As if the action was purely instinctual, Link turned his head to the right, the shop's walls concealing it from view, yet just outside lay the residence of the last client. If it would indeed be his first delivery, maybe then he could better prepare for the trek he'd have to take further into town.

Of course, if not, then…

"Well, c'mon then." Osmivanna ordered. "Help me get these down and packed. Then you're off."

Exiting Osmivanna's shop, Link stopped for a moment to adjust the large brown bag hoisted onto his back with the completed works nestled inside. He would have to hurry of course, the old man's orders were not to be disobeyed, and patience was not a virtue he held outside of his craft. Still, despite this, Link couldn't help himself in taking a few moments to pause and observe the surrounding environment of which he and Osmivanna called home.

The blacksmith's, and in turn, Link's residence, wasn't exactly anything extravagant or fancy. A simple, two story building of wood with a dark, gable roof of black tiles, though the 'two story' wasn't exactly indicative of it being an expansive abode, most of the space was mainly used to comprise of the necessities for his guardian's work, the beds and table and essentially everything else that wasn't part of the shop making up the small, upper level that was the loft. Nevertheless, it was still home, the only home that he had known, so perhaps he was looking at the old building through rose-colored glasses because it was near impossible to view it from any other angle. Or it could've also been the effect of the endless lectures of 'thankfulness' and 'gratitude' Osmivanna instilled in him since youth. Odd, and somewhat ironic, as the old man himself had a penchant for grumbling and complaining.

Besides, in truth, it was better than the other few sparse, shoddy huts around here. It hadn't always been like that, however. Whilst this area hadn't exactly been extravagant or busy, it still had something with the few shops and residences there were. Yet when the southern part of town had begun to garner more attention, not to mention more opportunities, people began relocating, now mainly filling up the most eastern portion of town. Now, the only few that resided in this place were Link himself, the old man, and the small family located nearby, their place not much better looking than the abandoned shacks.

BREY!

The main discerning feature between them, however, was the fact that only one of them had something living nestled in a small, fenced in area outside. Covered in a pelt of greyish fur and hooves lightly caked in dirt.

Link made his way towards the small abode, the aforementioned 'living thing' watching him with large, dark eyes, his elongated ears twitching slightly. The family's donkey, Panza. The small group of three that lived here had arrived in this place when Link was no more than five or six, he remembered their arrival well because Panza about ran him over when he tried to get close to the animal. Apparently, according to the father, a lanky, rather ethnic looking man by the name of Stockwell, Panza had misinterpreted Link's approach as an aggressive one, hence the initial hostility. Despite being a quadruped of an entirely different species, the donkey in many ways behaved very much like the family's guard dog. Not in the sense that he could be taught tricks or act cute at the prospect of food (something that disappointed Link at his young age), yet as demonstrated all those years ago, the working animal wouldn't hesitate to knock anyone's (be they man, woman, or in his case, child) teeth out if he felt they were intruding in on his owner's space.

The blonde Hylian nodded in acknowledgement to the animal, Goddesses knowing what would happen if he didn't. The working animal released a huff of air from his nostrils and shook his own head, a sign that the boy was allowed to approach the home of his owners.

Please let their daughter be home, Link silently begged. Let her be home, let her be home…

He knocked on the door of rotting wood, feeling it give way somewhat under his fist. Link stopped out of fear that the door itself would come crashing down, yet after a few moments of silence, he knocked again, albeit far softer. Still, no response. He didn't try again, Panza's old, yet knowing eyes said it all.

His first stop WOULD have to be in town.

And at just the beginning of rush hour.

It was just a short trip, which was all. Just a short, quick trip from the shop to the town square, and then the carpenter's shop. That was the general mantra that Link kept reciting to himself in his mind, mentally repeating that statement repeatedly, word by word, syllable by syllable. True, it wasn't the best method, as it seemed to do little to block out everything around him, yet lest he get an earful from the old man, he wasn't going anywhere until he got his part of the job done.

No matter what sort of reputation this town had, Link never thought that it warranted all of this. Even if it was 'Harkinian Town, the hotbed and most popular trading town in all the land.'.

Ringing bells and shouting voices echoed and reverberated throughout the entirety of the town square, stands upon stands and tents with a nearly limitless array of items and goods out on display had garnered the attention of all there, whether they were locals of the living area or not. This itself was far from common. In fact, as Link observed whenever he was forced to make his way through here, more outsiders and people he had never laid eyes on before frequented the market place than the local denizens. Good for business, he supposed, yet if that was the case, then he'd be far better off with simply taking requests or handling said business from afar. Let someone else handle the rowdy, frantic shoppers with their throwing handfuls of rupees for some strange, supposedly exotic object as if their very life depended on it. He couldn't understand it, what was so special about a red rock that was supposedly plucked away from the very heights of Death Mountain? Besides, according to Osmivanna, most of those stones were just taken from the bottom of the nearby river and extra material to make it sparkle was added to it.

Those tactics, however, ultimately lead to this place becoming what it was today. Harkinian Town at first didn't even have a name, at least from what Link was aware. From the tales told to him by the elderly blacksmith he resided with, this town began as a simple village nestled by the edge of Lake Hylia, the main body of water and a natural landmark of Hyrule. And given its proximity to said body of water, it was a humble lake town, its main export being freshly caught fish and other related items exclusive to the area. And as other villages and settlements around the small country began to develop, the town had brought with it a decent amount of extra business.

Yet it wasn't the booming port town Link knew today, at least not until a few years ago. From what Osmivanna had told him, as the early residents of the kingdom began to expand and develop, there was the discussion of a capital city needing to be established. That capital, at least at first, was a place very similar to the present day Harkinian Town, just set up around the landmark castle itself and being named the simpler yet still appropriate title, Hyrule Town. Then, while the details weren't exactly known to him, according to the old man, there was some sort of incident that occurred that must've been large enough to result in most Hyrule Town's inhabitants to scamper away and settle in the villages that were scattered throughout the land now, what was once Harkinian Town being one of them.

Business continued as usual, yet it was only recently that something was discovered in the lake. Something of which lead to the expansion of the town, as well as its reputation for this one of a kind, area exclusive product spreading far and wide, all the way to the capital itself. And the attention of one noble. Whom, Link couldn't recall, yet so impressed were they by this rare find, that he in turn, along with the town's Mayor Kravindish, officially renamed the town after the late, dearly departed King. And with this new attention, other smaller, less profitable villages caught on that such a place as this would be good to set up and begin selling their own goods. Word spread more and more, and now, the very center of the town had become a hot spot for business, stands with various items and peoples from villages near and far (assuming they could afford the travel) had come to perhaps strike a better deal than if they had been in their own town or village.

Still, with that, Link would've preferred if things had stayed the way they were before.

"FRESH VEGETABLES!"

It was certainly less noisy.

"FRESH FRUIT! GROWN STRAIGHT FROM THE MOST FERTILE SOIL!"

Not to mention it made delivery day much more bearable. All the same, he couldn't leave until he made his stop. And perhaps find Stockwell out here, should he be so fortunate.

"Come and buy!"

One foot in front of the other, then repeat. Yes, he was doing it.

"An apple a day, you know! Come try them out!"

Lowering his head might've been a good option, give more of an indication he wasn't interested. Besides, it wasn't as if he looked like someone who had extra cash to simply throw around.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

By the great Goddesses themselves, he could only hope. He was nearby, just a few feet more. Nestled in the most upper portion of the plaza and at the right was Mutoh's shop. Just a few more feet to go, then he'd be set to get out of here!

"Hey, young man!"

No, don't answer. It was rude, yes, but he couldn't afford to stop, he had a job to do. It was an excuse to avoid having to stop and talk, yes, but if that was what he had to use, so be it.

"Yo, where are you off to in such a hurry?!"

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"Oh, never mind! Weirdo."

Almost there, so close! He didn't want to stop and talk. He couldn't stop and talk. Well, technically, he couldn't really do only one of those…

"Fresh Zora eggs!"

His destination was just a few feet away, literally, he could see Mutoh's shop right in front of him, sign swinging up on the small hanger to the left of the door frame as if it were beckoning him to simply slip inside.

At the second stand to the east, the stand in particular bearing a white and sky-blue covering stood a rather ornately dressed, young woman. She wore a cloak of pure white that heavily contrasted with the deep red of her robes underneath, concealing some of the more fine details embroidered on the clothing. Link couldn't remember having ever seen this woman. And her attire didn't seem to match a good majority of the other patrons. Was it possible she was from the capital?

And whilst he couldn't see exactly what she was being handed at first, Link could suspect that there was something of value in the bottle she was handed, filled with water and some sort of round object with a pale blue coloring. "Ah, lovely!" the woman exclaimed, examining the small, round object, even giving the bottle a little shake. "Is it true what they say, good sir? That these here can truly make you look young and live longer?"

The stand's owner let out a small chuckle. "My lady," he assured. "Rumors such as these came from when I was just a lad! And so far, there's not been one word of it being proven wrong! And remember, only in Harkinian Town!"

"Excellent!" the woman proclaimed. "Lady Alma will be most pleased!"

"Excellent!" the woman proclaimed. "Lady Alma will be most pleased!"

He was beginning to regret not taking the opportunity to simply go inside. Link wasn't entirely sure of what to even think, aside from the fact that apparently, not just eggs, but Zora eggs... the potential possibilities and images attached to them were immediately forced from his wandering mind. They...they probably weren't even actual Zora eggs anyway. Just simply painting them up to look like them (he assumed, having never seen one before). Just like the supposed precious metals here, a phony.

Yeah, that was it. That was all it was.

Pushing the subject away for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, Link was about to knock on the door, yet found that as he grabbed the handle, it seemed to be unlocked as it easily came to him as he pulled. Waiting a few moments, there seemed to be no protest coming from inside to his entry, and the noise was reaching its peak, so the young man swiftly made his way inside, large, bulking sack and all.

It was a quickly made judgment, perhaps even premature, yet Link was already convinced that even far smaller spaced, confined shop was indeed a vastly superior alternative to the more open spaced madness outside. Confined, mainly due to the bevy of tools hanging from the rafters above him just a few feet, some able to reach the top of his blonde head had the young man passed underneath them. The interior of the shop was nothing unexpected, especially given what it served and the owner of said shop. Just about everything was crafted from wood: from the obvious pieces such as the workbench and out feed table to the less obvious such as the racks holding the tools too heavy to simply hang up to even the lumber storage. Even Osmivanna's storage racks were just that, racks, Link thought. Nevertheless, from the looks of it, he was granted with a lot of open space compared to usual as nothing was laid out atop of the feed table, taking the opportunity and setting the large sack atop of it to grant his back a bit of rest.

Of course, looking around more around the unusually quiet and even more unusually empty shop, Link was beginning to believe that, to his dismay, by some inexplicable stroke of horrible timing and luck, he had arrived either too early or even worse, too late. It was then that Link noticed a small light coming from behind a tattered drape in the back to the right, the only other source of light being from the rays seeping through the glass. And judging from the growing mumbling and complaining his ears were noticing, he was more than relieved that his journey here through that horrid market hadn't been for nothing.

"Oh, well FINALLY!" a gruff, slightly hoarse voice shouted, loud steps echoing through the entire shop indicating that the owner was coming closer and closer until a large hand slipped out from the slight opening behind the drape at the right end of the room and pushed it out of the way. "About time ONE of you showed up! Where in Nayru's divine name have you..." of course, instead of one of his muscled, able fellow carpenters, the older man found himself gazing at the smaller, far younger, and blonde young man that was probably more than a little nervous from his outburst. 'Oh great.' he couldn't help but think. 'Gone and scared the poor kid out of his wits most likely.' the only emotion that was able to come from him was nothing short of absolute embarrassment. "Eh...heh. Hey there, Link."

With a small wave of his hand, Link found he couldn't stop himself from letting a sigh of relief to exit his throat. The man before Link was one that, whilst the apprentice blacksmith knew well since his early youth, he was mainly known as someone that unless one had a history with, he wasn't exactly the most ascetically pleasing to look at, let alone approach. This wasn't to say that he was unsightly in appearance, yet his telltale gruffness and expression of harshness and a deeply furrowed brow seemed to put out the image that he wasn't exactly the friendliest of people, of which wasn't the truth at all. At least to those who managed to be brave enough and approach him or held a long history.

Mutoh the Carpenter, the best in all Hyrule as he claimed, was in no way a bad guy. He just was more known for some of his less desirable qualities, more likely than not due to his impulsiveness that, even in his age, seemed to be as quick and acted on as it was forty years ago. At least, Link assumed so, according to Osmivanna's claims, the old blacksmith having known the carpenter far longer than he had even been alive. Even now, in his far more advanced age of sixty, the old man claimed that the only way he'd stop working was when he was put in the ground, and from the looks of his form, Link thought that this was a claim that he very well could follow to the letter. Age had begun to show itself, his hair gone from his head and the only remains of it being his burly, thick brows and mustache, both of which were a snowy white. And while he had gained a bit of a gut over the years, Mutoh's arms were still muscled and large, as well as his almost always puffed out, barrel chest. It was common, if not outright expected, to see him with no shirt on, displaying his built pectorals, yet his upper half was partially covered by a deep blue vest with golden trimmings on the hem guard and arm holes. His lower half was another story, completely covered with golden trousers that bore black, striking stripes all over, and where the garments ended, bandages began, being wrapped around Mutoh's calves to his ankles, of where simple, brown shoes rested with worn out socks hidden inside on his feet.

"So, uh..." Mutoh began again, giving the back of his bald head a rub, cursing the flush his cheeks were getting at having mistaken Link for one of his own. "Guess you're here to deliver some of your old man's work, huh?" No audible answer came from the young man, the question being answered by a nod of the head, yet such an answer was of no surprise to the carpenter, his connection to Osmivanna long and ongoing, and so in turn, the same applied to Link. 'Better than trying to make the poor kid get something out of his mouth.' Reaching into the sack that was set down on the feed table (accidentally managing to prick himself on the item), the blonde managed to pull out the desired object, Mutoh in turn taking it and examining it. "Ah...good as new!" the old man heatedly proclaimed. "Not that I'd doubt your old man! One of the select few that you can actually trust with getting a job done and done right!" it was somewhat hilarious in hindsight. Mutoh would shout his mouth off and go off on anyone he deemed needing a 'good talking to', yet Link couldn't think of one time where he bad-mouthed his guardian, at least not openly. Privately was something unknown entirely, and something that gave the young man slight shudders on whether it'd be better or even worse.

"Mr. Mutoh, sir!" of course, now, to his shock and dismay, Link found that perhaps he was going to witness one of those tirades firsthand. The door swung open from the collective amount of weight behind it, yet given that it wasn't locked, it failed to support the four, burly men that came tumbling in. The first of the four that came to the door before the other three came barreling into him in a rush to get to the shop on time looked up and was somewhat thankful that he hadn't come to see his boss staring down at him. "Oh, hey there, Link." he said, he and the rest of his fellow workers steadily getting themselves up off the floor and at a standing position. While they all knew they were in hot water, perhaps with the young man here, their boss wouldn't be as willing to be so hard on them.

The four subjects of Link's guilty amusement and Mutoh's frustration were none other than his very own workers, his fellow carpenters. Though it only took one glance from each one of them and to their superior to immediately notice the major differences. It also only took a few moments alone with them to also notice the differences that lay beneath the physical appearances as well, despite that even Link at first once believed that maybe all four of them were somehow related. Compared to their employer, however, they were the complete antithesis of the older man. Mutoh put on the show and talk of, to put it bluntly (the type of manner the man in question was more than favorable of), a 'manly man'. 'Show no weakness, show no tears, show no feeling' was his creed and how he conducted himself. This wasn't to indicate he was an unfeeling or uncaring individual, being a father to two himself, yet it seemed to be a taboo of sorts that with what he presented to everyone else but a select few not be broken in any way. Link himself didn't entirely understand it, yet then again, Osmivanna did the exact same, and he had yet to understand why he too held such a code. Something that just had to do with getting old, he simply assumed.

Bremor, Brent, Doyle, and Mack, however, were nothing like that. Link had known them for less time than he had known Mutoh and Osmivanna, yet nevertheless, the four men took an immediate liking for the young man. It was also noted that unlike Mutoh, they were far ampler to discuss and go into personal matters, openly conversing with one another about their lives, families, etc., and even more ample to complain of working conditions being too hard or demanding. Not to mention that they all were far more open and expressive, as well as honest with their emotions than their boss could probably be, at least in the open. Though their attire matched Mutoh's as if to compensate, they all garbed in what seemed to be something of a 'uniform' for the trade, or at least Mutoh's shop there being a prevalent theme of vests and similarly styled trousers and bandages. Of course, unlike Mutoh, the vests of the four men were sleeveless and the trousers bore no patterns, instead displaying a small palette of colors. Bremor, the first of the four, bore a hairstyle that made it appear as if two spikes were sticking out of the top of his head, his trousers a vibrant green. Brent had what was known as a devilock, yet contrary to the style's name, his trousers were a pure, clean white. Doyle bore a far simpler flattop, yet he was the showiest, his trousers a bright shade of magenta or even hot pink. And finally, there was Mack, who held the title of most eccentric hair, having allow his already fluffy hair to grow into a large, boisterous afro, bearing a lighter shade of, yet still blue, pair of trousers.

"See here?" Mutoh suddenly spoke up, all of them seizing up with fear, and to a degree, Link couldn't help but pity them. Yet suddenly, he found a large, meaty hand roughly patting his bare shoulder, his own vest and grey top doing little to ease the blows that were meant to be gentle pats. "You four could learn a thing or two from this boy here!" Each pat sent a wave of pressure and pain traveling up his shoulder, yet still Link grinned and bore it, he had to, lest he potentially offend. "Hasn't gotten into getting his working hands yet, but at least he knows how to be punctual!" thankfully, after a few more hits, the last nearly knocking Link forward, Mutoh's friendly gesture ceased. "Anyway, thanks for the delivery." the old man thanked, stepping out of the way to allow the young man to once again hoist the sack onto his back. He then looked to his crew of four. "Well?! What are you waiting for?! Boy's busy here making deliveries! Give him some room!" a few moments of scrambling later, eventually, Bremor and Brent parted to the right whilst Doyle and Mack to the left, creating an open space for Link to exit. "Alright, you four!" Mutoh ordered, going to the small space behind the drape and coming back with a large sack thrown over his shoulder. "It's off to the ranch for us! A horse and a wagon, and we'll be on our way!"

Oh yeah...that was today...wasn't it?

It didn't take long for it to dawn on Mutoh that something was wrong. His large, thick brows drooped. "You all forgot...didn't you?"

"Oh no, sir! Not about that!" Mack assured. "I had the boys mark it on all of their calendars!

"So why aren't your supplies with you?" the older carpenter inquired, gesturing to the white sack he possessed. "You're supposed to bring your assigned rations of food and cooking utensils."

"Yeah, well, about that, boss..." Doyle began, twiddling his fingers. "We were kinda under the impression that we'd meet up here, THEN we'd go and pack up."

"So that we wouldn't be in a rush and maybe cause a mess! I mean..." it was shameful to admit, Bremor acknowledged, yet still, he had to. "We DID sort of barge in here and had the sacks been with us and filled...nothing but squashed vegetables would be what be served."

Whether the boss's silence should've been a sign that they were okay or not, neither of them knew, yet still, oddly enough, while the anger was more than present on his features, it was something that he could see a point in. While it was far from what the plan was, at least now, there was assurance there wouldn't be any wasted food...assuming they wouldn't find some other way to mess up. "Fine." Mutoh sighed. "Go to your places and fill up. But!" he added before they eagerly left. "Five minutes, then we're out to the ranch!"

'Gotten into getting his working hands yet...' Link reflected, looking down at his own palms. It was due to him being sucked into this train of thought and analysis of his own, physical hands that allowed him to somewhat block out the still ongoing, bustling noise outside the shop and move to the north, the familiar, repetitive echoes of deals and bells growing more and more distant as he exited that portion of Harkinian Town. He hadn't seen any sign of Stockwell out in all that madness, and frankly, he wasn't willing to go back through that madness again.

He could only hope now that he, or at least someone would be at their home by the time he got back to town.

It was the truth, to a degree, over the years from Osmivanna's training and getting his body conditioned enough to handle swinging the large hammer for striking, they still bore a considerable amount of smoothness. There were a few places where calluses had developed, particularly on where his proximal digital crease rested as well as the middle crease along his fingers, yet aside from those areas, the young man's hands still retained its natural 'plushness'.

"Oh! He-achoo! Hello, Link!"

Link in turn had directed his attention to the right, the one whom had spoken to him pleased she had gotten his acknowledgement. Though it was then she seemed to realize that she had a rather plump, white bird in her possession.

"Oh, of course! I'm sorry!" the red-haired woman that was display quite a case of sniffles thanks to the ivory feathered bird she held in her arms, letting loose another sneeze in the crook of one of them (yet also bringing her fact and in turn contact with the bird closer ranged). "Grog, watch these dears for me, would you?"

The 'Grog' in question being the almost sickeningly thin man sitting on the ground atop of a small box, hands limply hanging over his kneecaps and head always down. Though upon the woman asking this request, he crooked his neck to face her, then to the birds in the pen. With a small, nearly unnoticeable nod, the red-haired woman abandoned her post and began to make her way over to Link.

She was a middle-aged woman that, despite her more striking hair color, her eyes were wide and childlike, as if she still possessed some sort of juvenile tendencies and curiosities. Her skin, in contrast to her hair and eyes, was a rather subdued peach, as well as her frame slender, though now, noticeable bumps of gooseflesh were rising. The reaction she got almost every time she handled the cuckoos. A white undershirt with puffy, short sleeves with pink ribbons tied above the frilly ends where the arm holes began, it being overlaid by a brown berdice that came down to above her hips. A navy kirtle split down the middle and allowing the skirt to be seen overlie a long, white skirt that ended at just above her ankles. On said kirtle were flame-like patterns of a paleish blue, a single, stylized line going around underneath it. On her feet were a pair of simple, brown shoes of leather, fitting on like a pair of slippers with a middle piece in the middle of the topline, coming to a strap that fed through a small opening underneath and linked to the other side, keeping said shoe on.

The keeper and as luck would have it, only individual allergic to the cuckoos she cared for, Anju, the carpenter's daughter.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you..." the woman said, obviously somewhat out of breath. "But you HAVE seen my dad yes, right?" Link nodded in reply, she in turn releasing a long, relieved sigh. "Oh, that's good. He's still here then..." she paused. "Though, he'd be coming through here with his guys and I'd see him then...stupid Anju." she berated herself aloud, then realizing she had just done so in front of an observing party. "Ah, sorry. Don't mind me." even with her little blunder being brushed off, she had come to the young man for a reason. "Of course, not that you'd probably know, I'm just wondering...does he still plan to go out there?"

Plan to go out? Go out where? Link was more than a little confused, echoing this with a slight tilt of his head and a raised brow. Sure, Mutoh was usually a busy man, yet he had no knowledge of him going anywhere. Though this silence, while expected from the young man, this was interpreted as a confirmation by the older woman.

"I...I should've known." she sighed, as if having been defeated before she could even begin to put up any sort of struggle, let alone protest. "I mean, yes. It's his job…and there's been a shortage of lumber coming in, but still...why can't the Mayor just postpone construction on that bridge?" she then realized she was speaking aloud again. "Oh, I'm sorry! I don't mean to keep you! Your old man's probably is going to give you an earful if you're tardy. Course, I don't know if you're even set to be back at a certain time...anyway, thank you!"

She then flounced off, back to the pen behind her home, Grog having not moved a single muscle (assuming his hadn't wasted away from how thin he was) since she had left. The yellow trousers like what his father had worn were only held onto his lower half by a tightly fastened belt, his shoes also barely able to keep from slipping off his ankles. And unlike Anju's hair, his was a dulled, dirtied brown, at least what little of it he had. Aside from the spikes that lined his head in mohawk, the almost impossibly skinny man would almost be considered as bald as his own father. As Link began his journey once again, Grog turned his head towards the young man, dark, sunken eyes watching him go by, his piercing gaze was not exactly the easiest thing to take. In fact, it didn't take long for it to become too much, resulting in Link suddenly going into a sprint (or as much of one he could manage considering what he was carrying) until Mutoh's home and most importantly, the cuckoo pen, were behind him.

'Shame on you, boy.' the young man heard Osmivanna's lecturing voice sound in his head, he having expressed his less than favorable opinion on Grog when he was but a child. 'Yeah, he's not the most pleasant to look at, and probably even less pleasant to talk with. Only thing he likes are those annoying birds. But he means no harm and he's not the least bit interested in hurting you none. So, the least you could do is acknowledge him when we're passing by.'

Well…yeah, he should do that. Still, it didn't change the fact that man was incredibly creepy.

As he continued along, Link remembered well when he was dragged along on Osmivanna's deliveries, before his back had begun to give him trouble, almost always coming through here to either go to Mutoh's place if he wasn't at the shop or outside of the town's borders. Whilst not as large and especially not as crowded as the plaza currently was (of which, Link saw as benefits more than anything), the northern portion of Harkinian Town bore far more of a domestic, civilized air to it than the outskirts of where he lived, having lost much of its original forestry in place of homes and a couple of small, local business' that couldn't find a place in the plaza itself to rent out and set up shop. The only trees that remained were either potted shrubbery and were never allowed to grow past a certain, manageable size, and open windows kept any flowers around potted and usually stationed. The path below him was even laid out in white, brick tiles that began at the plaza and went on past the gate overhead, until just a few feet after, the tiles that had been so neatly placed and organized came to a halt, the bare dirt beneath allowed to show its face again.

The sole of his leather shoe crunching some grass that had been part of its own, small patch separated from the rest of the large, expansive field before him. Though he would only travel through a tiny, miniscule portion of it, that being laid out for him as his destination was more than visible from where he was standing, Link always adored simple just coming out here and being able to simply wander. Wander and explore in these vast, free, tranquil plains of fertile, green grass.

Hyrule Field.


	3. Delivery Day Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link goes outside of town to deliver more things, and he hears some peculiar details regarding the forest. And he receives a mysterious letter...

**Delivery Day Part 2**

The green land bore no extreme elevations or deviations from the natural flatness of the midlands, the only higher formations and mountains located far off to the west. Wild plants and flowering ferns were plentiful in the vast field of fertile green, small rises in the land beginning to show more to the west, yet even then, all Link could see was green. A seemingly endless sea of green…up until a large, blur of red met his sight.

The aptly named, and even more aptly feared, Death Mountain.

Despite being a vast distance away, it did little to ease the tension he experienced whenever he took notice of it, let alone ignite any sort of desire or inclination to want to go and see it up close. Let alone to try and traverse its peaks. It also didn't help that the native inhabitants of the mountain and the surrounding, smaller formations weren't exactly known to be the most hospitable. Beings of solid rock, he had once heard. Of solid rock and just as solid muscle, supposedly birthed from the very mountain itself from a time no longer remembered. Able to traverse through the mountain's boiling magma and reduce boulders to dust, these creatures were fiercely protective of this natural formation and its secrets. Gorons, he believed them to be called, yet even with what little he knew, Link couldn't exactly picture what they looked like. He had never seen one before in all the years he had lived to now.

Some said that they didn't just merely drive one from their claimed land, they would be willing to outright kill and toss the broken and shattered body in some dark cavern to rot and possibly feed the beasts that maybe dwelt further down in the deeper places of the monumental, natural work of both awe and terror. Though these tales mainly came from what he had managed to distinguish from the buzzing, near unbearable and collective droning from the market, the stands selling these supposed stones (at least according to his guardian), told of how they had to brave the various dangers associated with Death Mountain in order to obtain the stones and/or metals before them. Of course, some of them appeared to be more genuine, a symbol etched onto some of them, one that bore the shape of a diamond with three split ends going upward. It was something they surely carved in themselves, yet Link recognized it, nonetheless. In fact, he couldn't help but compare those to the one that was tattooed onto Osmivanna's shoulder.

Of course, he also remembered that Osmivanna wouldn't have appreciated it much if he had known that the lad was out here, reflecting on useless information when he was supposed to be on the job AND on the clock.

His destination was a good walk from the town, yet it was more than manageable, having done it more than a few times during his life, especially in childhood. Looking ahead, Link was pleased to find that while on that train of thought, he had gained a good amount of traction and was just nearly there, the border of rock and overhead entryway no more than a few yards away. Yet before he began again, he looked around, particularly near the borders of the place of interest ahead. Usually they migrated around the most west wall...

Wait, there it was. A neigh.

And another, and another, and... oh! Would he get to...yes! Yes, he would! Not just a few yards away from him, there they were!

It was around the time 'they' should've been arriving, yet still, 'they' usually didn't come this early! And yet there 'they' were! Right in front of him! Feeding off the overgrown grass and other various plants that they could find, yanking it up with their teeth from the Earth, roots and all, and in turn, devouring it with said teeth grinding in a sideways motion, all the while being completely unaware of Link's presence a short distance away.

Such beautiful creatures.

Outside of the high, rock wall surrounding his next destination a small herd of wild horses nestled to feed. Where they traveled through the rest of the seasons, he wasn't sure, yet every year, without fail, they always came to the large field, especially near the rock wall. Whether it was due to the large shade it provided as the sun began to set or simply the proximity, the blonde youth held no true reason or explanation. Nevertheless, every year they came, and every year, Link looked forward to seeing them. Varying from a range of colors, from tan (of which he learnt was referred to as 'dun') to the darkest black akin to the night sky, there were even some that were the complete antithesis in bearing a coat of solid, pure white. Rather fortunate they didn't come in the winter, lest Link miss those ones in plain sight.

As a yellowish horse in front of it (palamino, he believed it was called, though he simply didn't know what was wrong with just calling it yellow) moved to the side, the young man found his own eyes caught in a pair of dark, indigo ones a short distance away. Whether it was a stallion or a mare, he knew not, yet he was more than aware of that it was the most striking member of the herd. Instead of a black, white, or shade of brown (with needlessly assigned names), this horse bore a coat of deep red, the only one amongst its fellow equine brethren, the white stripe that went down to its darkly colored nose as well as its mane of ivory making Link wonder how on Earth, he managed to miss such poignant details. White cuffs of longer hair (that was the strangest of all to him, they addressed as 'feathered' when last time he was aware, horses bore no relation to birds) stationed above darkened hooves swished slightly as it began to, to both Link's terror and elation, move closer in his direction.

They were all beautiful. Truly, they were, yet this one…this specimen was simply breathtaking. And..wait a moment. Was it…it was. It was coming towards him.

Link was far from expecting such an opportunity such as this to come to him, let alone able to prepare for it, as with the horse coming closer and closer, even with it being a still measurable distance away, Link already found himself nervously backing away. He cursed himself for it, though found he simply couldn't help it. Its powerful legs could very well bruise or break something of his should it wish to, yet the fact that it was approaching him, as if genuinely interested in him, helped ease his mind from thinking of that possibility. Perhaps the animal was interested in the same way he was interested in them...that very sentiment was all Link needed to allow his hand to come up and reach out to the still approaching horse, ready for it to return his touch with its own.

But just as it was about to reach him, its ears twitched, and its head turned in the other direction. The other horses followed suit in this action, and just as quickly as it had been coming towards him, it, along with the rest of the herd, began to run off.

All the elation and fright that had been mixed into a collective concoction and pumping throughout his entire system all came crashing down as Link's equine observer along with its brethren scampered away. Absolute disappointment was all he felt; now mentally kicking himself for not going up and touching the horse himself, as potentially dangerous as it was. Yet with how it was looking so intently at him, surely it didn't have any intention to do so. Surely, he thought. Yet whether his convictions about its intentions were, it mattered not now. Besides, to his suddenly realized horror, he had wasted all that time staring at the wild herd and its uniquely colored member that he didn't even realize how low the sun had gotten! Oh, the old man was going to let him have it this time! He knew it!

With that realization, Link made a mad dash for the gate of the establishment before him, and, with a few more bountiful leaps (at least they were with how hard he was pushing himself), the young man finally made it to his destination.

Lon Lon Ranch.

He hated being so late, after looking forward to coming here too. Still, he wasn't here to lollygag, he had done enough of that already. The sight of a cream colored, ranch-style home with a tiled roof of brown passed him by, wondering if perhaps Osmivanna's client was already inside, yet upon hearing the collective neighing and chorus of moos not too far ahead, he suspected that his destination was just up ahead.

"Whoop! Easy, boy!" Link headed in that direction, passing the stable that held the animals that had been released earlier that day, they grazing or lounging in the open pasture.

The land, compared to the field it resided in, was rather minuscule by comparison, yet from the cows lazing away on the fertile grass to the small number of cuckoos that wandered around, pecking and bobbing their heads, and rather humorously, displaying their 'big head little body' mentality by pecking at and spooking some of the cows that had occupied a shaded area they wanted to have for themselves, it was more than adequate for them. It certainly must've been, considering that the ranch's pride and joy came from those very bovines, providing most, if not nearly all the income for the ranch. It was so sublime and dare he say, near perfect. Especially compared to the nerve-wracking market days and to a degree, the entirety of Harkinian Town in general. The two residents here knew him well already, as well as his little penchant for silence, and not once had any of the animals here tried to get something out from him even when he made it clear that such a thing wasn't as easy as it was for them.

"Ah, THERE you are!" Link didn't even have time to turn around, the hot air of the horse on the back of his neck already alerting him that his presence had been noticed, perhaps even long before the horse even reached him as the rider atop of it had just addressed him. Turning around, the sight of a dun colored stallion staring down at him met his eyes, along with the young, able bodied man not much older than he atop of it also staring down, chocolate brown eyes meeting his blue.

With skin that matched Link's own, perhaps even a shade or two darker, a full head of dark brown, nearly completely black hair was atop of the rider's head, the bangs feathered and seeming to swish off to the left, it also beginning to display the same at the neckline, only with it fanning outward. A yellowish-white undershirt with a pronounced collar that stood upright around his neck was under a gold, split-side tunic with a belt tightened around the waist and a pair of thin suspenders on his shoulders, of which were deep brown leather. Atop of all of this, however, lay a golden neck tie that loosely hung, the tied portion keeping it around him decorated with an ornament displaying the carving of some sort of monster with a large mouth and teeth, yet rather shaggy eyebrows and cartoonish looking eyes along with small horns. On his legs were covered to just below the knees with green colored trousers that had red, angular markings alongside the cuffs, his ensemble completed with simple, short socks and brown leather boots.

Link greeted the young rider with a small smile, he in turn dismounting the stallion and returning the subdued gesture with a far more hearty, exaggerated grin of white teeth. "Take it that you saw the little batch of visitors we've been getting outside?" The blonde immediately nodded, the rider grinning in response. "Yeah. They're beautiful, aren't they? After all, what other reason would you have to risk your Gramps giving you an earful for being late?"

It took him a moment for him to realize that was a jab at him, Link realizing too late that he nodded in agreement to that. Of course, it was quickly countered by a glare that, to his dismay, didn't affect the darker haired teen in the slightest. Link ultimately eased his features as well, rubbing the back of his head, as the only look he could give at that moment was a sheepish grin. There was no use in trying to keep up the angry act, that boy could always read him like a book.

"Ey, Terran! Get inside! Can't make lunch by myself, so-" a booming voice called out, the door of the long home that Link had passed thrust open and revealing a similarly looking, yet far older and stouter man with a burly, black mustache underneath a large, bulbous nose. He bore the same, friendly; brown eyes, yet even though he shared the same dark hair, it was evident that he had quite a receding hairline. The same colored wrap was tied around his shoulders, the emblem of the monster also keeping it in place. A worn, red shirt that had torn, ripped sleeves rested underneath a brown vest, along with the blue green trousers the stout man wore, yet surprisingly enough, the leather boots and gloves still seemed to be in good shape. "Ah, hey there, Link!" the man greeted. "Here for delivery, I take it?"

The blonde nodded, gesturing to the sack on his back. "Terran, whatcha' think you're doing?! Get up off that horse and help the boy out!" while that couldn't exactly be done word for word, the young man having to go and take the stallion back out to the paddock, he wasted no time in obeying the older man. "By the way, how long has it been since you had some fresh milk?"

As the thick, creamy liquid eased its way down his throat and cooled down his heated body, Link found himself beginning to think that maybe the risk of Osmivanna scolding him was worth it if he was getting free milk. Not just that, only the best of milk in all of Hyrule!

The interior of the decently sized home was nothing extravagant or fancy, the dining room mainly serving as the hub of the first floor, both Terran and his father's rooms, along with a single guest room located at the top of the short stairway to the right, the steps in themselves not exactly wide either. The table was a simple, square shaped piece of work, the chairs fashioned in a similar way, as well as the counters and shelves along the walls in the small kitchen. The main source of color in the room was the large rug that lay underneath the table and three chairs (Link wondered why three as there were only the two lived here), made up of several, colored yarn.

Setting down the bottle that was in his hand, Link licked his lips to remove any trace amounts of the creamy substance from his mouth. "Guzzled down half of that thing already?" the older man questioned him, chuckling at the younger boy's obvious enjoyment of the milk. "Been feeding the cows some alfalfa hay mixed in with the ordinary kind we make from grass. Heard that it's good for them, so I just wanted a second opinion. Take it that was some of the best advice I've gotten, huh?"

Link had no protests to that, immediately responding with a very eager and resounding nod.

"Heh, if there's anyone I can trust when it comes to our milk, it's you." Terran's father chuckled, looking over to the large sack that was set next to the table, Link more than eager to be relieved (even if just temporarily) from that large amount of weight he had to carry around. Reaching into the sack, the older ranch owner flipped open the flap and pulled the sickle from the sack. "Ah, good as new. Course your old man would've done no less than near perfect, huh?"

"Especially after the fuss he made after he found out you were the one that had gone and broken it." Terran stated, having entered the abode and closed the door.

"Hey, it's not like something like that's a rare occurrence, boy." his father retorted. "Could happen to anyone."

KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Hm?" Terran's father raised one brow in confusion, going over to the door and upon opening it, revealed a bald man with a familiar white beard and blue vest.

"Hey there, Tierney!" Mutoh greeted, Terran's father taking a moment or two to realize why the carpenter was here. "Uh, didn't come at a bad time, did I?"

"Hm? Wha-oh! Oh no! No, not at all!" Tierney said, immediately shaking Mutoh's hand. "In fact, I was just expecting you!" it was clearly a rouse, yet the ranch owner stepped outside. "In fact, Terran was giving him a bit of a test run before you arrived! He's right over here..." the rest of the conversation was lost as the door steadily shut behind them, Link and the aforementioned Terran now left alone in the house.

"I'd offer to let you stay for lunch," Terran began, gesturing towards the vegetables yet to be cut on the counter, its surface already riddled with markings and scratches. "But I'd imagine that your Gramps would give you more than an earful even if you're just a few minutes late." Link nodded, begrudgingly. "Still, though...here." he then grabbed one of the bottles of milk stationed on the table. "Don't worry, we've got FAR more than this, and that sickle you brought over will allow us to cut even more alfalfa for them, so if anything, you deserve it."

It didn't take long for Link to question it, swiping the glass from Terran's hand, and as tempting as it was to down the entire thing down in just a few gulps as he had done with the test bottle Tierney gave him, he managed to force himself to keep it away from his lips. His fingers fidgeted with the cork on top, yet still, he didn't open it, opening the large sack lying against the table's leg and placing it inside, then he hoisted the large sack back onto his back.

"You're welcome, I know." The blonde apprentice blacksmith was quite thankful in more ways than one. Though, before Link could depart, the door of the house opened yet again, Tierney and Mutoh standing in the doorway, the bald carpenter seemingly rather relieved to see Link.

"Ah, good! You're here!" he told the younger man. "Your old man told me you've got a delivery for the folks living near you guys. They not in town?" Link nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure. Frankly, it was impossible to find nearly anyone in that crowd, and there was no way he was trekking through it again. "Well, you're in luck! Me and the boys here are loaded up and ready to head out to those woods outside of town! Aren't we, fellas?"

He couldn't exactly see it, yet looking out from over Mutoh's shoulder, there was clearly a loaded wagon with all four of his fellow workers on it, each of them noticing and giving Link a friendly set of waves. "Hey, Boss! The horse here's getting a little antsy!" As if to further drive this point in, the stallion gave a loud bray, its hooves scraping at the ground.

"Just a second!" Mutoh called out, looking back to Link. "Anyway, even if stopping by there's not in your schedule, we could maybe give you a quick trip back to town to drop you off. Surely one of them has got to be home by now. Consider it a favor for getting me my saw."

"Huh?" one of the carpenters, Doyle assumedly, asked. "You sure boss? Not that I'm against taking him, but do you think there's enough room- "

"If there isn't, we'll just MAKE room!" Mutoh barked back, turning his attention back to Link. "You know, it's past noon already, and your Gramps hates you lollygagging. Plus, you've still got to deliver whatever your old man's made to your neighbors, so hop aboard, son!" the elderly, yet still strong and able man commanded. "You're riding with us!"

"Whoah!"

Everyone jumped, though not entirely from the outburst that came from Mack. The wagon wheel had run over a pebble and sent the entire thing jumping a little, jostling everyone from their places.

"Geez, getting a little panicky already, Mack?" Bremor questioned snidely, raising a brow. "Maybe you should try and convince the Boss to sit this one out. You wouldn't survive one night out where we're going."

"Sh-Shut up!" the afro-headed man retorted. "You were startled by that little jump too!"

Whilst his fellow carpenter was clearly annoyed by the other man's comment, Brent found himself puzzled. "Bremor, what are you even talking about?"

The other carpenter appeared almost flabbergasted by this response. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know what…" indeed, Link thought. Know what? After a few seconds of contemplation, it seemed to dawn on Brent what his fellow builder was referring to, immediately scoffing in turn at it. "Oh come on!" he answered. "Don't tell me you believe any of that talk!"

"Y-Yeah." Mack added. "Besides, it's not like anyone has any proof of anything!"

"True," Bremor admitted. "But then how to do you explain the fact that no one else from any of the surrounding villages will even set foot in the woods? Let alone why some people in our line of work having gone missing after going in there?"

"Now I'm confused." Doyle interjected. "Just what ARE you talking about?" he then looked to the young man next to him, having been assigned along with him to make sure none of the tools or food fell out of the cart. "Maybe Link here would also like to know more if this is so interesting to you, Bremor?"

Honestly, Link was NOT overly anxious to hear about it. Especially given that the woods were right where they were all heading. True, he wasn't having to spend the night, or even a few nights there, but still…

"Well, you know the bridges that Mayor Kravindish wants built to link the small areas of land at Lake Hylia?"

"Uh, yeah." Brent answered. "That's sort of why we're even HERE."

"And you also know that every other person he's asked has turned him down. Even the firm that gets work from the Castle turned him down. Even with all the rupees he promised to pay!"

"Get to the point." Brent sighed. "You've got some crazy theory on why no one wants to go to the forest, so let's just hear it already."

Bremor gave a curt smile. "Well…" he began, drawing out the 'well' to better begin his 'tale'. "You DO know the tales and legends associated with the woods, right?" he questioned, not that it would matter much, as he went on ahead, giving no one a chance to even answer. "Well, I happen to know one particular old story that perhaps may or may not relate to why there are so many cautionary tales about going in there."

"You sure that Link should be listening to this?" Doyle questioned Brent, the other carpenter in turn rolling his eyes.

"Oh come on. It's just nonsensical talk. Besides, Link's not a child. I'm pretty sure he can tolerate it if Bremor's tale gets a little 'spooky'." he chuckled at the last part, rolling his eyes yet again.

Frankly, Link wasn't exactly keen on hearing anything Bremor had to say at the moment, yet to save face, he nodded in agreement with Brent. Besides, what would Osmivanna say if he expressed such cowardice?

"As I was saying," Bremor began again. "Long ago, perhaps even before the first Hylians or any other creature was crafted by the Goddesses hands, a spirit was placed in the heart of these very woods. A creation of all three Graces, yet it's rumored that Farore prided Herself in this particular creation, and thus, it was appointed as the watcher and keeper of all that resided in the forest. The trees, the plants, the animals, all were to be kept under its watchful eye, as well as its protection."

"Then nothing would be able to get done." Brent interjected. "Because, and I hate to break this to you, but even with the recent reluctance to go there, people have gathered wood and all sorts of stuff from those woods for decades, perhaps even centuries."

"If you'd let me, I'm GETTING to that." Bremor hissed. "Now, as I was saying before I was so RUDELY interrupted," Brent rolled his eyes. "It's said that this spirit, despite its duty, knew also of how the Hylian people were in need of the forest. Whether for wood, food, or whatever else, the spirit was instructed to allow them to take what they needed."

"So what's the-" Brent began again, Bremor cutting him off.

"But ONLY what they needed. Should they take out of greed or gluttony, then the spirit was given full reign to drive out or attack those that took advantage of the forest's generosity and abundance." While it was clear he was still indignant, this at least shut Brent up for a bit. "Soon, it's said, that it became so bad, and men so lustful, that the spirit asked the Goddesses to allow it to turn the forest into a safe haven for those that dwelt there naturally, yet for all outsiders, that it be transformed into a twisting, winding maze that they would never hope to escape from. Oh yes, you COULD find your way out, should you be so fortunate, yet unless you're familiar with the forest, let alone have permission from the spirit itself to enter, you'll most likely enter and never come out alive."

The entire group was silent.

"So…" Mack began, finally finding his voice, albeit a rather nervous, panic-stricken one. "The ones that don't...you know...surely people go in to search for them, right?"

"Oh yes, they do. And they're usually left alone." Bremor confirmed. "But they never find what they're looking for."

"Wh-Why not?" Mack gulped.

Bremor wasted no punches, milking this for all it was worth. "Because any soul that dies there is withered down to the bone by the forest creatures. They tear away anything that once linked them to the outside world. Clothes, flesh, anything." Link felt Doyle's hands clasp themselves over his ears, yet his efforts to keep Bremor's story weren't exactly the best, as he could still hear the man. "And then, some force comes over those bones, allowing them to come alive...only the force residing in those bones is the soul of the one that died. Their soul is forever tied to their skeleton, forced to wander the earth and the forest until the end of days, or, by some fortune, they happen across someone to dismantle their twisted form and release them from their self inflicted curse."

Silence yet again.

Doyle released his hands from Link's ears, yet it was clear that, even with Bremor's tale having finished, no one was particularly eager to speed up the trip.

Especially seeing as the woodline could be seen but a few yards away, the cart and horse drawing closer and closer, the once high sun steadily sinking in the skies above.

With one, final hoist, the last of the sacks was taken off of the wagon. "Thanks for the help, boy." Mutoh thanked, Link handing him the heavy luggage of sorts. "Then again, it's not like we can let you borrow the horse if there's still stuff that on for it to pull, right?" he chuckled, though no one at first answered. "Eh, whatever." the older man then turned to his subordinates. "Hey, don't go too far in! We want to set up camp NEAR the entrance! And no, it's NOT because of any of that mumbo-jumbo Bremor was spouting off about!" Mutoh then left, leaving the young man alone, the horizon above having turned a palesih, light pink tinged with specks of orange and violet.

All of which appeared to completely vanish amidst the sea of towering trees that lay before him, he in turn not daring to cross the unseen barrier that was the woodline.

To say that the forest was large would've been criminally inaccurate. If anything, had the very ocean been transformed into a bevy of tightly compacted flora, Link wasn't even sure if it would've been enough to fully cover what was before him. Logically speaking, yes, he knew well that second to the Goddesses Themselves, the ocean was probably the largest, most unconquerable thing in existence. Yet now, gazing upward, unable to even see the sun amidst the tops of the collection of potentially near ancient flora, the ocean was, at the very least, part of the natural world that didn't sound as intimidating.

No way, he thought. No way he was going in there.

"Ok, boy!"

And thought he dare not even mention it (not that'd it sound like much), he was beginning to suspect Mutoh and his men were all insane to even think of coming out here!

"Ready to head back?" atop of the horse that had previously been pulling the wagon rode Mutoh. Link eyed the creature the bare chested older man sat upon: a decent looking specimen, but nothing compared to the red skinned, ivory maned beauty he had been blessed in glimpsing. Though any further musing on the mysterious equine was cut short at the horse present came up to him. "Hop on, the old guy's going to give you more than a little grief if you're too late for his liking-"

"WAIT!"

What the... Link looked in the direction of the voice, tempted to rub his eyes to truly see if he was indeed seeing what he was seeing. A good few yards for them he was, yet he was approaching fast, a thin, yet toned man of peach skin and bearing a white and red uniform with a peculiar cap was rushing towards them.

"Oh, it's just the postman." Mutoh responded.

Out here?! Link seemed to be saying with his eyes, yet just as he took his attention off Mutoh, he found himself stumbling back and falling to the ground. Seemingly in no time at all, the red capped man had gotten but mere inches away from him.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." the lean, clearly speedy man began. "But would one of you happen to be a ?" Link shot up. "Oh, that would be you, sir?"

"Not exactly." Mutoh interjected. "But he lives with him, and he's on his way back to town, so if you're needing to get something to him, this kid here will do half of the work for you."

"Oh! Well, in that case…" the postman paused, reaching into his rather large, packed sack (really, how in the world could he run that fast with that thing, Link thought) and pulled out a simple, white envelope. "Here you are!" Link took the envelope, bringing it closer to better examine it.

It wasn't anything spectacular, the envelope had outright looked like it had seen better days. The wax seal was rather standard as well, yet the question remained: who would've sent something to the old man from outside of town?

"Ah, ah!" the postman lectured. "No peeking. Delivering to him you may be, yet that's still not for you."

"Yes, well, thanks for that." Mutoh answered.

"All in a day's work, sir!" the uniformed mail carrier gave a salute. "Well, I bid you good day, I must be off!" and with that, he began trekking away from them, vanishing in the distance in an amount of time that, had they not witnessed it themselves, neither of them would've scarcely believed it.

"Whatever he's chowing down on, I'd like a whole pack or gallon." the elderly carpenter confessed, then directing his attention back to Link. "Anyway, let's hurry! Sun's setting, and even at your age, you're still too young to be out here after dark!"

"See you, son!" Mutoh bid farewell, giving the horse a small clap on its rear, it lifting up on its hind legs and then darting off in the direction it had just come from.

Just imagine, Link thought. Just imagine if he could witness that red horse in its place. And he, should the gorgeous thing allow him, be perched atop of it as its rider.

Yet Osmivanna's voice rang in his head. 'Don't be wasting time indulging in fantasies, boy. There's still work to do.'

Speaking of, he could only hope that one of them was home at least. Luckily, Link found that the marketplace was settling, so a good number of the stands had been packed up and their owners had left. If only it could always be like this. True, it was still rather crowded, the fishermen having come in from Lake Hylia and were obviously more than a little eager to return home. Indeed, he could more than relate to that. Heading in the direction of the shop, the small shack that lay not far away was approached, the blacksmith's apprentice knocking on the flimsy, wooden door a few times. Panza breyed lightly to greet him, yet Link paid him no mind, continuing to knock. Goddesses help him if he up and accidentally broke it. Unfortunately, there was no answer. He knocked again, a little harder (but not too hard, lest the old man have a fit), yet still, him alerting of his presence yielded nothing.

Oh, come on, please, he mentally begged. He didn't want to have to wait out here for the entire night. And there was no way that he could go back with a job left undone, the old man would never allow such a thing-

"There you are."

A shiver ran up his back, Link instinctively releasing a rather unbecoming yelp and jumping back right into the door, a figure having decided to make themselves known to him. Ironically enough, despite their 'introduction', it was still someone he was relieved to see. Somewhat.

A young woman around his age stood but a few inches away from him, the bridge of a strange, minimalistic mask that resembled a crude depiction of a fox nearly touching the bridge of his nose. A cape of sorts was draped around her shoulders, the neckline having tufts of blackened fur, the rest of the cloth the same color as the mask, four extra add ons, 'tails', sewn on the back at the end.

The sole daughter of his and Osmivanna's neighbors, Koa.

"I heard that lot making a commotion in the forest but an hour ago." she said, her voice slightly muffled from behind the mask. "Though once I heard them say something of you coming back to town," she removed the carved, smoothed out wood covering her face. "I decided that it'd be easier to meet you here than track you down."

Even though he was far from unfamiliar with her, Link still found himself uneasy in her presence, especially whenever her eyes bore into his. The aforementioned feature of hers bore a striking, honey color, almost golden, as if they belonged to an animal that was wearing human skin. In contrast, her hair was a dark violet, the ends coming to her shoulders and flipping outward, a red cloth tied around her bangs and atop of her head like a headband, the ends tied into a tight bow in the back. Yet aside from those features, whilst Link dare not mention it, let alone make note of it, the rest of her made it obvious that she and her family weren't exactly the most well off folks around.

The first layer of her outfit consisted of a beige underdress that bore no sleeves and held red trims on both the collar that came to her neck and on her shoulders. A crest rested on where her neck met her upper chest, the metal clearly aged and somewhat rusted, green and a circular topaz centered in the small piece of jewelry. A lighter dress of purple lay over the beige, clearly too small for her and not even able to cover below her waist, the ends fashioned into arcing ovals with yellow trims and red markings in the small sections the dress dipped down in. A blue undershirt with square ends along the rims compensated for the short length, the beige dress that lay under that not as kept up, the ends ripped in various places. A shash of darker violet was fashioned around her waist, circular patterns embezzled on it. And whilst it was barely able to be seen, a pair of green undergarments rested underneath her mish-mash of differly colored clothing haphazardly thrown together. Her lower half was a bit more easy on the eyes, her wrists held fingerless gloves of violet with silver bands around the wrists, and her legs bore stockings of beige with large blue sections at the top, red trims and patterns in the space seemingly resembling that of flickering flames. Silver bands akin to those around her wrists were fashioned around her ankles, a simple pair of slip on, purple shoes on her feet.

Whether it be her eyes, her attire, or just her overall demeanor in general, Link always found his nerves on alert whenever he took notice of, or in this case, had to interact with Koa. It wasn't as if he meant to say she was a bad person of any sort, yet he couldn't exactly say whether or not she was good. Frankly, even with all the years he HAD known of the young woman's existence, she always had this 'air' about her, an 'air' that never failed to make his hair stand up on end.

"...do you plan on standing around idly?" she questioned the still semi-startled young man, tilting her head slightly, as if studying him. Link could've sworn that she was looking as if she were contemplating whether or not he looked like something she'd 'like'. Not in the sense of her being pleased with what was in front of her, yet as if she were analyzing some delicacy she had yet to sample, torn between whether or not to take a bite. After a moment or two of this, thankfully, Link thought, she held out her hand to him. "You have what was asked for. Give it to me."

Oh right, the motor. Funny how he had managed to forget that, given what he had come here for.

Those eyes of hers…

Bringing the small instrument out, Koa quickly took it from Link, holding up in front of her and surveying the object, her expression still remaining still and cold. "The last one will be impossible to replace...and it's clear that this one is smaller..." Link flinched slightly at that.

'Told you that it was made too small, boy. Should've paid more attention to the measurements she gave ya.'

"...but it shall do." a sigh of relief escaped him, of which caused the dark haired young woman to raise a brow. "Thank you...I suppose." she then turned her eyes to the donkey that had been standing at attention the whole time. "Be sure to at least bid Panza goodbye. He's been lonely since mother and father decided to borrow one of the ranch's horses today."

Well, that explained why the donkey was here, given how the animal was almost always gone whenever her parents went to sell wares. Link watched as Koa made her way to the door of her small home, yet she didn't enter. She simply stood, seemingly eyeing the young blonde, then looking back to Osmivanna's shop. As if giving him a silent command to get going.

Something of which he wasted no time in follow. Of course, he gave Panza a small pat on the muzzle before making his way back. And while he couldn't see it, Link found a shiver working his way up his back at the thought of it. But...no. No, that's just silly, he thought. After all, what reason would she have to simply stand and stare at him like…

His breath caught in his throat, immediately stepping inside.

"I take it you're done, seeing as you're...what's up with you, boy? Looks like you've just seen a ghost."

In truth, he saw nothing.

No one.

And the door looked as if it hadn't been touched.

"Better hurry up. It ain't going to be warm forever."

Finally! With permission having been granted to him, the old man's apprentice immediately dug into the steaming, thickened substance that rested in the aged, wooden bowl.

The small, black pot had been sat upon the table, its contents fresh and hot. Not exactly a meal that one would perhaps wish for due to the rapidly approaching summer, yet the night air was chilled and crisp, thus, such warmth was more than welcome. Kroger, a simple, yet thick and filling stew. Thickened, creamy broth filled with chopped onions, celery, carrots, and potatoes coated the inside of Link's mouth, reveling in the thickened, fresh taste of the cooked vegetables. If only they had some soda bread at their disposal, then this meal would've been perfect! Only…wait a moment. He tasted something else in the combination. Cod?

"Managed to catch some of the men down at the port with some leftovers." Osmivanna told the boy, apparently having read his confusion. "Usually don't have fish in our meals, so I decided to try it out."

Well, if that was the case, frankly, Link was wondering if he could ever go back to simply having vegetables in the broth, for, as he found, the fish had risen the stew to even better levels of flavor. Still, if only there were some soda bread…

"So," the old blacksmith began, speaking in between periods of wolfing down the thickened substance. "Not that it's much of a question, let alone one that isn't obvious, but how's your day been?"

Link glanced at Osmivanna, shrugging in response. At the moment, all he wanted to concentrate on was this stew.

"Me too." The old man answered, going back to his stew as well. "Had a couple of folks come in." he said in between slurps. "Same ol', same ol'. Hammer's broken, saw's rusty…" he went on, seemingly growing more and more discontent as he listed off the string of minimal, seemingly uninteresting tasks. "Really, either these people have no concept of how to take care of anything, or they think we're THAT desperate, that they're going and breaking stuff out of pity!" he grumbled. "…course, not to say I'd turn either away, seeing as, either way, it's still money."

And more things for the old man to send him around to do.

"Such is our lot, boy." The blacksmith said. Honestly, sometimes Link swore that he could read his mind. The young boy maneuvered a bit on his stool, a light breeze seeping in from the windows.

Rustle…

Hm?

"What's that?"

Link looked down to his pants pocket, setting his bowl upon the table. Oh. Oh, yes! He had forgotten among all the deliveries!

"Huh?" Osmivanna raised a thickened brow at the sight of the small, enclosed letter the blonde boy pulled out. "That for me?" the old man took the letter and read the front. Only to then get up from his stool and make his way down from the loft. Link was more than a little puzzled, if not outright shocked by such a reaction, he about to rise from his own sitting place to go after his caretaker. "Have the rest of my stew, boy." Osmivanna shouted from below. "Don't come down here for a bit. I need to read this alone." What in the world…what was on that paper that spurred such a reaction as this? Link began making his way towards the ladder. "Stay where you are!" the old man ordered, the blonde in turn freezing up upon hearing such a strong bellow. "Go eat your dinner, or I'll toss it out for the critters outside!"

Link wasted no time sitting back down and devouring the stew, more or less out of fear of the old man. Granted, he was far from one to go and toss food out, especially given how adamant he was in salvaging any sort of piece he made. There were more days than he could count when he would rant and rave about how one of his customers up and wasted a perfectly good tool or work he had apparently poured blood, sweat, and tears over. Though Link could attest that it was mainly sweat. The only tears he had seen was from the unfortunate souls that Osmivanna had managed to get ahold of for committing such a 'crime'. No blood as of yet, though there were a good few times that he came close to shedding it.

But still…not even that produced such a reaction as this simple piece of paper.

Link could've been mistaken, yet the blacksmith's response didn't indicate rage. Not genuine rage at least. No, this, and he could've been mistaken, yet it seemed to invoke a distinct sense of dread.

Immense dread.

**Later that Night**

The cotton nightshirt slipped over his upper half, coming to drape midway on his thighs, not giving him much protection from the chilled, night air. His arms, of which the shirt held no sleeves for, and the rest of his legs began to produce gooseflesh, the urge to go and start a fire down in the shop more than desirable at the moment. Though the heat that once consumed the entirety of the building before had all but dissipated now, the fire out, the tools cooling off, and the echoes of metal being beaten into shape all little more than reminiscing in the young man's mind.

CREAK

Someone was coming up the ladder, the sight of the old man still garbed in his work clothes putting Link off for a moment.

"Well, seems you're ready for bed." Osmivanna observed, finally completing the journey up. "Good. Hopefully you'll rise at least an hour earlier."

Link averted his blue eyes for a moment, a small, sheepish grin coming to him as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Hey, listen, boy." The blacksmith began, voice unusually gentle. "Sorry about earlier. With the letter I mean. It was…" he paused, as if he were robbed of any words to say. Link's brow quirked ever so slightly. Indeed, something was up. He felt such the moment that letter was given to him. Yet now, now he began regretting even handing him that thing. "Anyway," Osmivanna began again. "I just wanted to let you know I apologize. I didn't mean to snap at you."

He was avoiding talking about it entirely too. This…everything about this didn't feel right.

"Anyway, I suppose I best get settled in too." The old man straightened his apron. "Besides, I've got some extra things to take care of, so you get yourself to bed, you hear?"

Nothing about this felt right. Still, regardless, Link knew better than to push it. He parted his lips, even if he knew it was unlikely any sound would come out. Yet still…

"Yeah, yeah, I know, boy." Osmivanna told him, beginning to head down the ladder again. "Good night."

Closing his mouth, Link simply bid him the same with a small wave, the old man disappearing.

A small growl came from the blonde boy, fingers gripping onto his sheets as he climbed into bed. His hand then clutched at his throat. Oh, if he could JUST reach in there and maybe tweak with whatever lay inside to try and get something to come out! It wasn't as if he were entirely incapable! Yet it was never consistent! Sounds seemed to never come naturally! They seemed to have whims of their own in whether they wished for him to produce them or not.

From under his mattress, he pulled out a small, worn out book, his fingers lightly caressing the equally worn out cover.

Oh well. At least he didn't need and vocalization for this.

Flipping through the pages, his blue eyes scanned through, searching for something that caught his interest. Though truth be told, it had been some time since he read it. Perhaps it was best to start somewhere near the beginning.

Ah, here was a good place-

"Wait right there!"

Hm? What the-

"What?" Link didn't get a chance to respond before a pair of hands snatched the book out of his own. "Don't tell me you were going to start without me, were you, boy?"

The blonde was nothing short of flabbergasted, both at Osmivanna's sudden entrance, and at what he was about to do.

"What? Oh, I see." The old man began. "You think you're too old, don't you? You're not some kid anymore, huh?"

Link didn't respond, though his first reflex was to nod.

"Well, too bad! Because as far as I'm concerned, our deal's still on! So, it's reading this or whatever else is lying around here, and Goddesses strike me dead if I should fail to!"

Well…no need to get that dramatic about it. But, yet again, Link wasn't going to argue. An important lesson for living with the old man. Never argue. Ever. EVER.

"Now then,…ah!" Osmivanna declared, looking to where Link had decided to begin. "Not a bad one. No…not bad at all."

Clearing his throat, he began.

* * *

**Tale of the First Peoples and the Triforce**

After the World was made, and the Three Goddesses ascended to their thrones in the heavens, the first peoples came to live down on the world they had made, after every other creature, plant and beast, was made.

Using their own bodies as molds for their shapes, the Graces appointed two leaders to guide the people: a King and a Queen. In their possession, the Golden Triforce was left to them for keeping. "Go forth," they said. "Go forth, and multiply. Be plentiful and create generations that shall live and give glory to our creation, the World, for you too are a creation of us. But in this, you must not forget, there are others here that live amongst you. The people of the mountain, the people of the water, the beasts of the air, sea, cave, and forest. All these are of us, and none bear anything more or less than you in our eyes. Therefore, only fight and defend as you must, should there be conflict. Yet the ground below you is just as much your possession as it is theirs. The Triforce shall serve as a reminder of all of this. Keep these simple laws, and your people will never be swept away."

And thus, from the Goddesses' blessing and the efforts of the first King and Queen, the kingdom of Hyrule was formed. For a time, the peoples of all lands lived together in harmony. Yet, as mortal creatures tend to do, such harmony did not last.

"What do we owe the other peoples of the land?" the Hylians thought. "We were made by the Goddesses in their image! We have long ears so that their messages come directly to us! And we have the Power of Gold on our side! We should not have to limit ourselves! We should spread out over all the land and take what we deserve!"

And thus, they began to intrude and invade the territory of the other peoples. They began to kill and slaughter all who got in their way, and those that they could not kill, they made into slaves. Whips scarred their backs, and chains kept them in place, the kingdom of Hyrule growing into a prosperous, lustrous kingdom, yet on the blood of their neighbors.

This angered the Goddesses greatly. The Hylians had grown arrogant and wicked due to their possession of the Triforce.

And due to their wickedness, word of the sacred treasure's power began to seep out into the lands outside the kingdom, the peoples they had treated so cruelly now wanting to gain ahold of it, so that they would then be the ones with the power to crush their oppressors.

The entire land erupted in war, peoples and tribes fighting all around, families split apart, mothers left without children and children left with no one to protect them from being struck down as well.

This had to end.

So, the Divine called forth six mortal beings: each from a different race, yet all called for the same purpose.

"The Triforce being here amongst you was to remind you of our watchful eyes and attentive ears. Yet you have grown cold and cruel due to it. You believe that it gives you the right to take and pillage as you please. This is not so, and thus, beings such as you cannot be trusted with such a thing. An entrance to the Sacred Realm, one of the layers of the Heavens above, shall be opened to you. Here, you will put the Triforce, and here, it shall stay. Then, this entrance is to be kept under lock and key, never opened unless access to it is truly needed."

So, the six peoples went to work. They constructed a temple, and a specific system that served to lock the Triforce away from mortal eyes and hands. A great door blocks the only way in, and that door is sealed with three, special stones. Stones of Emerald, Ruby, and Sapphire, each a representation of the Forest, the Mountain, and the Waters of Hyrule. And behind this door, inside a chamber in the heart of the temple, a great, majestic sword rests in a pedestal. Removing this sword would allow one to access the Sacred Realm, and in turn, the Triforce.

Yet the Goddesses and the six builders were clever in their design. For this sword would not relinquish itself from its place for anyone. Only one chosen by the Graces themselves can retrieve it from its place. And this individual is said to be nothing short of a hero. One that shall save the land of Hyrule from any and all incoming threats, no matter how large. And from his victory, he shall help usher in a New Age for the Kingdom, releasing prisoners from their captivity, and leading the lost home.

* * *

"Well, not exactly the beginning, but close enough." Osmivanna said, closing the book. "Besides, at the moment, it's something you shouldn't be caring about either." He reached forward, rustling the boy's hair. "You're getting to bed, even if I have to knock your lights out with this thing here!"

Link finally managed to get the old, but strong blacksmith's hand off of his head, small giggles escaping him. Far from a becoming sight for him, yet again, do NOT argue with the old man. EVER.

"Sorry about earlier. Again." Osmivanna told his apprentice, stroking his callused, worn fingers through the boy's head of hair, albeit far gentler. Link tilted his head to the side, beginning to reach outward in an attempt to perhaps direct the conversation back to the incident earlier, yet his hand was stopped. "Just…go on. Get to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

The young man didn't get anything, not a gesture or silent protest, or even the first semblance of a word out before the blacksmith made his way back down the ladder. Link simply looked on, frankly, at a complete loss on what to make of what had transpired before, and how, whatever it was, it was clearly affecting the old man, even now.

Still…don't argue with him. Ever.

Turning to the small oil lamp stationed on a small table beside the bed, Link lifted the glass cover and licked his fingers, snuffing out the nearly burnt away wick, bathing the loft in a darkened haze, the only source of light being the rays of the moon above.

A million or so things still lingered on his mind. Particularly regarding what he had seen and heard today. Supposedly dangerous forests and letters…odd.

Very, very odd.

Very…very…odd.


End file.
